MajiPuri
by Minami Socks
Summary: Don't read this. Momo will poke you, Echizen will eat you and Karupin will glow blue at you. I'm already shaking in my socks here.


MajiPuri

Chapter 1  
But That Was Normal

--

A/N: Don't.

--

"Mother, a random professor who lives in one of the four houses in our town gave me this sword when I tried to go into the tall grass," said Echizen Ryoma as he reached for another slice of toast from across the kitchen table.

"That must have been Professor Ryuuzaki, dear," his mother replied, back facing him as she cooked more breakfast for her pig-worthy son, perverted husband and personality-lacking niece.

"After taking it, I feel compelled to go seek my fortune by finding the nine legendary Regulars and capturing them in tiny capsules, or something of the sort," Ryoma elaborated, buttering six slices of toast at once and kicking his father in the calf from under the table because his father's foot was threatening to touch him where fathers wouldn't normally touch their sons. But that was normal.

"That's nice, dear," his mother replied, face conveniently out of the camera frame as she set a plate piled high with fried eggs on the table.

"The journey will be long, hard, dangerous, torturous, and perils will be lurking at every corner," the boy helped himself to four eggs at one go. "Also, I'm going to call the sword 'Karupin'."

"Go ahead, dear," his mother's back was turned again as she cooked more. "That's a nice name."

"Since you've approved," Ryoma pushed one last piece of toast into his mouth, and picked up a bag used for storing a tennis racquet (he didn't know what a 'tennis racquet' was, anyway, probably something equally useless and perverted as his tennis-playing father) and carefully placed newly-christened Karupin inside after throwing the red-and-black racquet at his father. The racquet hit the poor old monk in the groin, and, as he claimed ten years later, made him impotent for the rest of his life -- commonly believed to be a lie, for Nanjirou was as big a liar as he was a pervert.

"I'm off," Ryoma pulled his cap further down so that it shielded his eyes. "Don't look for me."

With that, he opened the door and made to leave.

"Don't go into the tall grass," his mother called after him. "You never know what might appear there."

The door swung shut, and she doubted that her son had heard her warning. But that was normal.

--

"It's some tall grass," commented our protagonist, brandishing Karupin in what he hoped was a threatening and heroic manner. "Since I've never heard anyone say anything about tall grass, I think it's safe enough to go in."

He stepped into the first square of grass. Nothing happened, and feeling rather cocky and proud of himself, he proceeded to the next, confident that nothing remotely dangerous (like anyone warned him, anyway) would happen.

It was only then when dramatic music stirred and he found himself in a random encounter.

"Help, help!!" screamed a high-pitched feminine voice, rather lamely. "I'm Ryuuzaki Sakuno, twelve years old, and I'm in a pinch!"

A Sasabe -- a rather large bear-like animal, with distinctly human traits like the ability to speak and play tennis -- had the girl (Ryuuzaki Sakuno, Ryoma assumed) ensealed in a large, transparent, plastic tennis ball (Ryoma had also seen his father using them before -- the solid, yellow kind, of course -- and he knew it was probably also something as useless and perverted as the old man) with no means of escape. It was a wonder how she'd even gotten in in the first place.

"Who do you work for, and what do you want with this girl" -- he paused, and looked her up and down, eyes narrowed -- "whose elbows are too straight, knees are too bent and hair is too long?"

The Sasabe laughed a raspy laugh that Ryoma nearly mistook for a rather bad cough.

"Here's a complimentary, full-length poster from his latest album," the Sasabe, whose voice was surprisingly smooth and salesman-like in contrast to his barbaric exterior, whipped out a scroll of shiny paper from his tennis racquet bag, and let it unroll in the most exaggerated way possible.

It was an unnecessarily flashy picture of this 'Sexy Demon Lord Atobe Keigo' (as seen from the words in terribly cursive and flashy font embellished flashily on the top of the poster), with him pointing flashily, wearing a flashy shirt which revealed the lower half of his torso, on which was a flashy tattoo of a flashy letter 'H', and wearing flashy shorts so flashily short that he might as well have been flashing.

Upon closer inspection, the pair of flashy shorts was actually a flashy skirt. Good grief.

While Ryoma's eyes were busy bugging out at the flashy poster of the flashy flasher, the Sasabe slinked away as quietly as he could, the tennis-ball enveloped Sakuno tucked under one arm.

"Well, I think I'm going to pretend not to see this so I can avoid trouble," the protagonist thought aloud, shirking all responsibilities as usual. "I think I'll keep the poster, though, because Sexy Demon Lord Atobe seems like he'll come in handy." He rolled up the shiny and flashy paper, and stowed it in his bag.

There was a loud rustling of leaves behind him, and out of the large hear-shaped leaves of the tennis-ball bush jumped a girl. She had shreds of grass and a few leaves still embedded in her two ponytails, and she wore a disgruntled expression on her face as she picked these off.

"What?" she snapped.

"Were you with her?" Ryoma questioned, not really interested in knowing the answer but actually for the sake of progressing the story farther in the course of this epic tale of action, adventure and lack of something called tennis (which Ryoma knew was overall as useless and perverted as his father).

"Her? Oh," the young lass chirped her reply, not answering the question at all. She scrutinised our main character closely, from his cap to the expertly-tied knots on his expensive-looking track shoes, eyes gradually lighting up as they lingered on his face. "Say, you may be short, but you're kind of hot. I'm Tomoka, who are you?"

"Me? Horio. Horio Satoshi," the boy muttered, putting up his fangirl defences. He had encountered, not to his pride, many situations like this when he was still in Swordsman School -- various daughters of various people of various professions would crowd around the classroom window just to get even the tiniest glimpse of his face, then end up getting a lock of hair or body part sliced off by accident if they tried too hard. Thus, young Ryoma had cultivated the habit of giving the name of his neighbour with two years of gymnastics experience whenever he was asked for his name by any female or male who seemed remotely sexually inclined towards him, save his father who probably knew his name already.

"Okay!" squealed the new fan, blissfully ignorant and enthusiastic. "I think I'll stalk you -- I mean, go home now."

At this point of time, Ryoma's back had already gained a distance of seven point fifty-two metres from the hopeful fangirl. Humming to his sword casually, he stayed unaware of what kind of horror would be unleashed on him in the dangerous, peril-filled, action-packed, lovely future. But that was normal.

--

Six squares of grass and another dead Sasabe later, Ryoma had reached the next town -- a small, quaint little village that went by the name of Peaches. The name was contradictory, our protagonist knew, since the orchards in the town were famous for being able to grow anything but.

His brother (by the unoriginal name of Ryoga) worked in an orange orchard there, but no way in hell was Ryoma going to let him, who was every bit as perverted -- but good-looking and more homosexual -- as his father, know he was in the vicinity. Anyway, it was rare that he ever visited; Ryoma hoped Ryoga's image of him was as fuzzy as his own was of Ryoga.

As he approached the gate that separated the town from the wilderness, he noticed that Karupin was glowing a faint blue, brighter and brighter as he came closer to the sleepy and hungry-looking knight stationed at the checkpoint. Intrigued, he took a step closer, and another, so close that his head hit the metal armour covering the knight's chest (Ryoma had never been a very tall person, but always assumed that his sunny disposition and perverted father made up for his vertically-challenged physical structure).

"Oi," the knight poked Ryoma with his halberd. "Got a passport?"

"I wasn't aware I needed one," he countered, throwing Karupin from hand to hand as if he couldn't care less, because, well, he really _couldn't_ care less. "Is there a Regular in this town?"

"How the hell'm I supposed to know?" the knight retorted, not moving his weapon. "Anyway, kid, no passport, no entry. Go away."

"I'm nearly thirteen," stated Ryoma, as if it wasn't obvious, which was true, because to the knight he looked about eight.

"I'm already fourteen, and you're still a kid with no passport," reasoned the knight, jabbing Ryoma once more with the pointy end of the halberd.

"I'll treat you to a burger," Ryoma withdrew a small but heavy bag of coins, and jingled it tantalizingly in front of the knight's face (or at least, as high as he could reach). "but if you'd rather not then too bad --"

"Wait -- It's my lunch break in ten minutes, and there's this burger joint next to the cow farm," the knight's attitude took a three hundred and sixty degree turn, and he immediately lowered his weapon, pushing up the little thingy with a hinge on his helm so the shorter person could see the overwhelming sincerity that leaked out of his helmet in a stream.

No wait, it was just some drool.

The knight wiped it away ineffectively with his metal gauntlet, and Ryoma knew he had taken the bait. "Just wait a bit, okay?" grinned the knight.

"Why can't you let me in first?" asked Ryoma irritatedly, for that had been his plan right from the very start -- he thought he might be able to get away with the notion for the knight was obviously a moron.

"Because you'll get lost in the town, kid," came the reply, matter-of-factly.

"But the town only has --" Ryoma tiptoed to count, even though the gate would normally only reach the waist of any self-respecting nearing-thirteen-year-old, at least. "-- _five_ houses?! Woah, that _is_ big. You're right, I'll stay here. I might get lost."

"Good kid," said the knight fondly. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Echizen. Echizen Ryoma," he replied, repeating his last name for wholly unnecessary emphasis.

"I'm Momoshiro Takeshi," said the knight-newly-known-as-Momoshiro. "But you can call me Momoko."

"I'm going to call you Momo-senpai because it sounds manlier," said Ryoma after some pause.

"Good point," agreed Momoshiro-newly-known-as-Momo.

They stood in silence for another six minutes and forty-two seconds, before Momo's phone alarm went off and Sexy Demon Lord Atobe's first and best-selling single, 'I'm A Sexy Demon Lord', filled the general area. Ryoma hated that song because it was played on the radio too much and the tune wasn't even _that_ catchy, and decided never to tell his new companion about the flashy poster which sat flashily in his un-flashy bag at the very moment.

"… FLAMING ICE… DREAM MAKER… I'M A SEXY --" Momo hit a button on his cellphone and tugged on Ryoma's sleeve like a very tall, eager child. "Let's go, then."

Ryoma looked around, but the place was quite plainly deserted.

"Where's the next person on shift?"

"I'm technically not supposed to go on a lunch break since there's only one knight in the whole village," Momo shrugged his no-respect-for-authority shrug.

"So," Ryoma steadied himself with a deep breath. "I could have just waited."

"Yeah, pretty much," Momo replied. "You see, that's why I don't get paid much. We're still going, right?"

Reminding himself to stab the obnoxious older man with Karupin at the next chance, Ryoma and his new-found victim turned and made their way into the out-of-the-way, very very big and five-building large village of Peaches.

--

Ryoma ended up not choosing to stab Momo, whom he now recognised as his fellow big eater and possible lover -- the pointy hairs on his head seemed more and more appealing for every minute they spent consuming unhealthies together. As he stuffed the remains of his twelfth Fresh-Out-The-Cow Burger into his mouth (Momo was halfway through his seventeenth and seemed to still have room for more), he wondered why Karupin didn't seem a bit exhausted from glowing blue all the time.

_Perhaps,_ he thought, _he's an inanimate object and doesn't need any sustenance?_ It seemed rather unlikely, even though Karupin, still emitting the eerie blue aura, hadn't touched his Kids' Meal even when all three had agreed to let him (Ryoma decided that a male sword was overall more manlier for his own image and reputation) have the toy. Momo had eventually taken the food _and_ the toy, and Karupin didn't even complain. Admiring the sword's iron will, Ryoma picked him up and turned him around in his hand.

"What's with that sword?" Momo raised an eyebrow, chewing furiously.

"It's feeling oppressed," replied Ryoma, patting the hilt lightly.

Momo dismissed the matter and lay back in his seat, content. "Well, I'd better go now. My lunch break ended," he checked the clock on the wall, "two hours ago. Nice meeting you, Echizen."

They shook hands for what Ryoma thought might be the last time, and though he put on a brave front, inside, secretly, his heart had been smashed into what felt like a million pieces, and he didn't know where or when he might be able to find an older man quite like Momo ever again. Choking back his manly tears as he watched the taller guy's back get further and further away, he almost didn't catch Karupin turning from a glowing blue sword to just an ordinary sword.

Finding it odd that Karupin should only choose to stop throwing a tantrum now, he unsheathed the blade and examined it with tear-filled eyes. Somehow, it felt heavier in his two hands.

Or maybe, he thought, it was only the clichéd sense of loss that overwhelmed him at that very moment.

Speed surged into him, and he ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran until, finally, his feet stumbled into a halt at the town gate. The knight, just as sleepy and hungry-looking as before, stood there still.

Relieved, Ryoma flattened his hair to look presentable and walked up to him, deciding to go for a nice, straightforward confession.

"Momo-senpai, let's elope," he said, fully serious.

"Okay," said Momo, equally serious.

Eyes sparkling so much he really lost sight of anyone but his real knight in shining armour, Ryoma even forgot to notice that Karupin was shining a brighter blue than ever before.

And then, like all other instances regarding accepting new party members, Karupin turned from a glowing blue sword to just an ordinary sword for the second time that day with a barely audible 'meow'.

But that was normal.

--

A/N: I told you so.


End file.
